Of Portraits and People
by Coral in the moon
Summary: Albus gets into trouble. A few too many people jump to his rescue for Headmistress McGonagall's liking. Oo-oo-oops.


**Popped into my head as a story about Albus meeting the portraits and grew quite a bit. What's your opinion?**

* * *

"In trouble again, boy?" sighed the portrait of Armando Dippet. "Dear, oh dear. I've seen you in this office for years and years, and just when I think you might have grown out of it, in you pop again."

"You're mixing the boy up with his brother, father and grandfather, Armando," drawled Phineas Black. "Oh, no, the Potter family doesn't have the decency to die out."

Albus Potter glanced nervously at the portraits of the former Headmasters of Hogwarts. Most of them were regarding him with interest.

"Oh, hush, Phineas," said Dilys Derwent. "Don't bully the boy. It's this one's first time here, after all. What was it this time, child?"

"I…" stuttered Albus.

"Speak up, boy, speak up," said Ambrose Swott irritably. "Don't they teach students not to mumble anymore?"

"You're old school, Ambrose," said Phineas Black. "Can't blame you, I suppose, seeing as you date from the Tudors."

"Be quiet, Phineas, and let the boy talk," said Dilys. "Go on, child. It's the only bit of interesting news we get up here. Otherwise it's all rules and regulations and Filch complaining about who dripped what at where. We Headmasters and Headmistresses aren't a very fun lot, mostly."

Taking courage from Dilys's kindly smile, Albus said, "I sort of dropped a firework that my uncle gave me in the corridors between lessons, ma'am."

"Kind of?"

"I didn't mean to!" hastily said Albus. "It sort of slipped out of my hand."

"And why were you carrying a firework in your hand, boy?" said Quentin Trimble sternly.

Albus turned red. "I…I was kind of going to…"

"Yes?" said Quentin Trimble, raising an austere eyebrow.

"I was going to throw it into my brother's classroom," mumbled Albus.

"Ah-hah!" said Phineas Black triumphantly. "No good thing has ever come from a Potter. Bunch of wittering troublemakers, is what I've always said."

"Then you've always said a load of rubbish," retorted Phyllida Spore. "Have you already forgotten what his father did?"

"Bit difficult to forget, what with the newspapers screaming all day about Saint Potter," said Phineas Black sourly. "Everyone wants him to sign something or endorse something. 'Oh, Potter, won't you please let me kiss your shoes?' "

"Don't talk about my dad like that!" said Albus loudly, surprising himself and the portraits.

"That's the spirit, boy," said Newton Scamander encouragingly. "You tell that old coot. What is your name, anyway?"

"Albus Potter, sir."

The name caused a stir among the portraits. "Albus, did you say?" exclaimed Dilys delightedly. "Why, how lovely of your parents! Dumbledore, did you hear?"

The portraits all turned to look at the portrait hanging behind the Headmaster's chair. Following their gaze, Albus turned and met the twinkling blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore, half-hidden behind his famous half-moon glasses.

"Hello, Albus," said Albus Dumbledore.

"Sir," said Albus nervously.

"Relax, my boy," said Dumbledore kindly. "I suppose you find it a bit uncomfortable here? I'd be surprised if you didn't find yourself facing a lot of expectations."

"Well, yes, sir," said the boy. "Especially since I'm named after you, sir. No offence meant, Professor," he added hastily.

"None taken," said Dumbledore. "This is your first year here, isn't it? Well, I expect I'll be seeing you a lot, then."

"Sir?"

Those blue eyes twinkled at him. "You're half a Potter and half a Weasley, Albus. That makes you a full-out troublemaker. Professor McGonagall expects as much, though she did express her hope you and your brother's stay here would be somewhat less…explosive…than that of your uncles, Fred and George Weasley."

Albus fidgeted uncomfortably.

"Oh, to be young again," sighed Dumbledore. "A word of advice, though, my boy – and this is very important – do steer clear of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans."

Albus stared. "I'll…I'll try, sir."

Dumbledore beamed at him. "Do thank your parents for me," he said dreamily. "It was such a nice gesture on Harry's part. He has so much of his mother in him. By the way, Albus, I have a feeling he named you for someone else too, did he not? Your brother was named after your grandfather and his best friend, the great-great-grandson of Phineas over there – "

A snort came from Phineas Black.

" – but how about you? What's your middle name?"

"Severus, sir," said Albus. "My name's Albus Severus Potter."

Dumbledore smiled a sad smile. "I thought as much." Turning, he looked to another portrait which had been silent until now. "Severus?"

The figure in the portrait stirred, making a show of pretending not to have been listening. "What is it, Dumbledore?" irritably said the sallow, thin-faced man with a large, hooked nose and greasy hair.

"Harry named his son after you," said Dumbledore.

"And I'm supposed to be grateful for the patronage of Potter, am I?" sneered Snape. "How wonderful of him."

"He was the one who got you your portrait here!" said Dilys Derwent indignantly.

"And thanks to him, I get to spend the next few centuries listening to the misdeeds of future generations," said Snape sardonically. "Carry my thanks to your magnanimous father, Potter. And tell him if he has to name someone after me, I would prefer that he did so for someone more talented in areas other than mischief-making…"

Albus lifted his eyes to Snape's, and Snape suddenly fell silent.

"Oh, no, Severus," said Dumbledore, smiling sadly. "I think Harry had an excellent reason for naming this particular son after you."

Snape remained silent, but his eyes searched Albus's almost hungrily, until Albus started to feel uncomfortable.

"There you are, Mr Potter," said McGonagall as she entered, seating herself behind her desk. "Sit down. Now, what explanation do you have for your atrocious behaviour?"

"It was an accident, Professor – "

"An accident? Mr Filch has informed me that you seemed to have _accidentally_ dropped a Dungbomb in Mr Malfoy's bag during your Herbology class two days ago, but Professor Longbottom only let you off with a warning."

"That was a joke, Professor," said Albus weakly. "Scorpius is my best mate – "

"Try harder, Potter," scoffed Phineas Black. "That's likely, a Potter and a Malfoy – "

"It's true, actually, Phineas," said McGonagall, glancing at him, "but I would appreciate it greatly if you did not interrupt me."

"Yes, Headmistress," said Phineas sarcastically, then added under his breath, "Oh, the next few centuries are going to be a blast with _her_ around."

"Best mates or not, Mr Potter, these disruptions to classes are not tolerated. You are here to be educated in the finer intricacies of magic, not to practise whatever foolishness you may have learnt from your uncle. As for today's incident – "

A terrific banging erupted from downstairs, and McGonagall looked startled. Albus jumped and spun around.

"Wait here, Potter," said McGonagall, getting up.

As she left, Phineas Black burst out, "Malfoy? Scorpius Malfoy would stoop to be friends with you?"

"Things are changing, Phineas," said Dumbledore calmly.

"It's utterly ridiculous! Snape, what _is_ your godson teaching his offspring?"

"He was never my godson," replied Snape curtly, still watching Albus intently.

Just then, McGonagall re-entered the study, looking furious. In front of her were two squirming boys, one dark-haired and one blonde, their feet dangling just off the floor as they were seemingly being yanked up by their collars by invisible hands.

"Explain yourself!" said McGonagall angrily, as she once again resumed her seat. At her words, the boys dropped back to earth, and scrambled to their feet on either side of Albus.

"I'm sorry, Professor," said one quickly. "It's my fault, I jostled Albus and he dropped the Feathery Flamingo Flame Fuzzer-"

"Oh, shut it, Scorpius. Professor, it was my fault, I put him up to it, it's almost Easter and I thought it'd make a nice start for the holidays, and besides Professor Binns puts everyone to sleep anyway, so it's not like we're actually missing out on anything…"

"Silence, Mr Potter. I want to hear your stories one by one, and you may speak only when capable of coherence."

"Right, sorry, Professor," said James, but he grinned as he spoke. "Professor Binns was going to give us a quiz, and I thought it'd be good fun – I mean, it'd be enlivening – to, uh, have a bit of noise. So I told Albus to chuck one in when he passed by on his way to Potions, and-"

"Indeed," said McGonagall frigidly. "And you, Mr Malfoy?"

"I knew about it, Professor, and I was kind of saying that it'd be a laugh if it actually went off in the corridors, because everyone'd be between classes then. Albus told me to stop shoving him around, he might drop it, and I jostled him again just for a laugh and he really did drop it…" Scorpius's voice faltered as McGonagall turned a cold eye on him.

"And so what the two of you are saying is that Mr Albus Potter is in fact, perfectly innocent?"

"Yes, Professor," said James. "Er, no, wait, not completely innocent, but if you're giving out detention I reckon it ought to be me."

"That's very kind of you, Potter," said McGonagall tartly.

"No, Professor!" said Albus. "I agreed to do it-"

"Only 'cause I told you I'd hex your stupid cat if you didn't-"

"Be quiet, the both of you. Potter and Malfoy, what was the meaning of that dreadful racket you made downstairs?"

"We didn't have the password, and we _needed_ to see you urgently, Professor," said James ingenuously. "You know, before you hung Albus upside down or something."

Despite herself, McGonagall's mouth twitched.

Albus gazed in awe at his brother.

Just then, a man entered the study. "Headmistress!" he said, attempting to sound casual. "I'm terribly sorry to interrupt, but I'm afraid this concerns me. I'd, er, ordered Exploding Whizz Poppers from George Weasley – for my children, you understand – and Albus here was supposed to pass them to me. And well, I suppose an accident happened in the corridor…"

Collectively, the three boys winced.

"It may interest you to know, Professor Longbottom, that the firework in question was a Feathery Flamingo Flame Fuzzer, I believe," said McGonagall acidly.

"Ah, yes," said Professor Longbottom. "That's what I meant, of course." He attempted to laugh. "All the new products these days, I get so mixed up. Of course it was a Flaming Feathery Flutterby, I remember it now-"

"Longbottom, this is ridiculous!" snapped McGonagall, finally losing her patience. "Potter – _both_ Potters – have already confessed, and it is absurd for you to keep shielding them! I know you're deeply grateful to Harry Potter for past events and you maintain close contact with him, but allowing his children to create havoc in Hogwarts is not the way to repay him!"

"Oh, no, Professor, that's not what I'm doing-"

"Out, Longbottom!" shrieked McGonagall, then recollected that three students were present, and took a deep breath. "Professor Longbottom, I mean. Please excuse me; I have three students to discipline."

The three boys snuck looks at each other as Neville Longbottom headed out, crestfallen.

_He just made things worse,_ mouthed Scorpius.

_Nice of him, though, _mouthed Albus.

_I had everything under control,_ grumbled James.

"Now, Mr Malfoy, Mr Potter and Mr Potter," said McGonagall severely, focusing on them once more. "You will each have ten points deducted from your respective houses – "

"Twenty points from Ravenclaw?" said Scorpius incredulously. "But, Professor-"

"-and if I hear another word out of you, Mr Malfoy, it will be thirty. As for you, Mr James Potter, if I ever find out that you have been misleading your younger brother again, you will receive a week's worth of detention. As it is…"

James winced.

McGonagall pursed her mouth. "As it is, Mr Potter, at least you had enough courage to own to your part. You will not receive detention this time, but I assure you that you will regret it if there is a repeat incident. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Professor," said James jubilantly. "Thank you, Professor!"

"You may leave now," said McGonagall. However, as they reached the door, she called out, "Mr Potter!"

"Yes, Professor McGonagall?" said Albus and James together.

"The older Mr Potter, I mean. You will clear up the mess that your Peace Disturbers made below – without magic."

"Without magic?" repeated James weakly.

"Was there a problem?" said McGonagall, looking up from her papers.

"No, Professor," said James glumly, and the three of them trudged out.

As they made their way down the spiral staircase, James turned on Albus. "See what you've done? Now I'm stuck cleaning the mess downstairs – without magic!"

"The mess _you_ made," retorted Albus.

"To save you, you little twerp. That's gratitude for you, eh, Scorpius? You want to watch this one; put your rear on the line for him and he'll never say a word of thanks."

"I am grateful," protested Albus, as they reached the bottom, "but you did make that mess – whoa."

"Pretty good, huh?" said Scorpius almost proudly. "I let off that one."

"Yeah, thanks, mate," said James sourly.

"Hey, I was the one who came to tell you that Albus got caught," said Scorpius indignantly.

"Yeah, thanks, mate," repeated James in the exact same tone.

"We'll help," offered Albus. "Won't we, Scorpius?"

Scorpius sighed deeply. "Yeah, thanks, mate," he repeated in James's tone.

At that moment, Rose happened to pass by with Roxanne, peeking into the room that led to the now sealed entrance to the Headmistress's study.

"Hey, guys," said Rose. "I heard – whoa."

"I know," said Albus.

"Who trashed this place?" said Roxanne.

"James and me," said Scorpius, unable to keep the note of pride out.

"We wanted to get McGonagall's attention and got a little carried away," said James, surveying the destruction glumly. "Reckon Uncle George gave me an extra strong set of Explosive Enterprises. No wonder your Flamingo Fuzzer went off like that, Albus."

"Bet you got McGonagall's attention all right," said Roxanne, beginning to laugh. "Honestly, James…"

"Oh, shut up," said James. "Any chance you girls want to help clean up?"

"Not a hope, cousin," said Rose sweetly. "We wouldn't want to deprive you of the joys of wrongdoing, now, would we?"

"You sound just like Aunt Hermione," said Albus, wrinkling his nose.

"It's a gift," said Rose, grinning. "We'll leave you boys to it, then." The girls left, their heartless laughter floating back to the three boys.

"Where do we even start?" asked Scorpius, sitting down.

"I don't know," said James, kicking a broken picture frame. "Does wandless magic count as magic? We could claim it was by accident."

"Like you can manage it," scoffed Albus.

James focused on the frame. "_Reparo!"_

A piece of broken glass wiggled a bit, but that was all.

"_Reparo! Reparo! REPARO!"_

"Oh, give it up," said Albus, even as a warning, _"Potter!"_ came from upstairs.

"This is going to take a while," said James dispiritedly, looking around.

"I'm hungry," moaned Scorpius. "My dad's going to kill you for getting me into trouble. My dad's going to write to the Daily Prophet. Potter Spawn Cause Death Of Malfoy Heir. My dad's going to-"

"_My _dad's going to bail me out of Azkaban for your murder if you don't shut up," interrupted James. "The sooner we get this done, the sooner you can stuff your face, Scorpius, so get a move on. Just my luck, stuck with a couple of first years…"

"I'm going to starve to death right here," said Scorpius, contemplating a scratched House Cup sadly. "I keep seeing pumpkin pie and strawberry trifle…"

Albus whacked him on the head with a Special Awards cup.


End file.
